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To imagine fate and destiny as casinos, had been dead sure of being dealt the worst shoe conceivable.
That genuine enlightenment could rise out of darkness and toxic waste, it'd be a baffling thing to sleep on. Yet upon rising from it, wasn't surprised when her Replicator would accuse her of being an impostor—after great smiles, apologies, politer orders, and sips of much milder coffee, knew there was no arguing otherwise.
"Friends below are hated as hideous beings; unlike me, never had much choice. To be granted the luxury, 'bout time I chose better."
Captain's vow begun with the chirpiest greeting to share in years; most to give her the stink-eye, but Amy in particular to grimace and glance anywhere else. Breaking away, didn't hear her speak a single word between loading and launch; sighing as she stood up, soon gave her Auto-Pilot the reins and gazed over Amy's latest catalogue.
"S'cuse me, you got a moment?"
"Does it look like I do?"
"We've got to discuss, let's say, attitude problems."
"Speak for yourself. Cheers and raised mugs won't fool me, so kindly shut up and fly this thing."
Balled her fists, but breathed, "Who said I was referring to you?"
Wary gaze to meet her own, "You're right. You are absolutely right. There's no venom I've spat nor deed I've done, that I can take back. I've left offices wrecked and bodies broken, promises outright failed. Whatever trust HQ had in me, it's all but gone; destiny well-deserved to become such a tyrant. My actions were 100% wrong, I've no excuses and never had 'em, and I'm truly sorry."
Amy's eyes to avert, in careful thought, only to shake her head. "Respect the effort, but frankly, for this whole Obsessie Bessie leadership vibe of late? Be sooner thinking of a certain other Captain who could take command."
"Miracle over monster, miracle over monster, miracle over monster…"
"Yes, even considering the history you've spoken of already."
"So I'd be replaced by a hack who'd put us in constant danger, just so he could PRETEND to play hero? Remind you of anyone?"
"Ma'am, lest we forget, I was there as you were. And while I cannot dismiss the gluttony nor deny his greed, Mayfield's given more to our cause—arguably over his own—than anyone we've hired in months, maybe longer."
"Oh please. Anyone could clear that bar, even on Stumbos-4."
"Should that mean ignoring that he did, and always tried going above? Oh sure, he'd cause us much trouble, no question, but he'd also save our ASSES on many a launch. With or without miracles, whether you wanna admit it or not, he's proven more capable than you, or even HE, believes."
"That's IT? That was supposed to convince me to trust him? Especially after he stole away my most sacred thing?"
"Ma'am, I NEVER knew it was. None of us did, in fact… We're your closest colleagues, what hope did he have?"
Hummed over about opening up—mostly why she should've—for the few parsecs left until touchdown in Angra-7, among the lazy swirls of tumbleweed and sandy dust. Trolleying toward iron gates, suspicious of such peaceful façades, she and her co-pilot would come to interrupt two guards hocking spit, taking aim above, sometimes at, each other's heads.
"Well well, finally! Somethin' to do instead-a sit here."
As they'd circle about with a rather certain swagger, she'd try to keep any choking to a minimum; sharing raspy cackles with cigarette smoke, fellows in sleeveless jumpsuits and leather skins, a complete dragon tattoo to adorn their biceps and triceps, each bulging with menace.
"My, aren't you two a sight for sore eyes? Or eye, heh. Asshole's head over here was makin' me sick."
"Eeeasy with the eyeballing guys. We're both engaged, hate to disappoint ya and—"
"Like hell we are, I'd rather—"
"SHUT UP!"
"Plenty for us already, shame ya missin' out on a good time… So, where are these going, and for who?"
"Just dropping this off for, let's see"—clipboard to check—"Deb-you Zack-O, I believe?"
"Day-boo Zaa-co, he'll insist. Friends call 'em Fatty, though I suggest yer don't. Just go in if this gate lets yer, rather be anywhere else."
Couldn't help but voice relief as they'd saunter for a saloon offside, allowing a chance to examine the gate's spiritual face up close. Co-pilot's curious strokes of moustache—full-sized spiked clubs—to invite backing up, especially once it began resembling a roar.
"Well Captain, I'm out of ideas. Day-boo's gonna go without, I guess."
A tell-tale quiver, to return a certain instinct, "AMY, GET BACK!"
Had such a thing come half a moment too late, feared that bell-like clangs would've made absolute mincemeat of her co-pilot's head—seemed this 'spirit' loathed any such kind of attention at all.
"God dammit, as if I'm not freaked out enough! You alright?"
Shoulder pats in spite of wobbly knees to get quite the reassurance, to then direct a few dead-centre blasts at that lock. Monster to leave miserable, red-faced, and forced to submit, soon reveal path upon path that'd cause confusion, debates hasty, at least before sloppy signs for 'Fatty' came to attention.
Following all eventual directions, came across a makeshift camp; no wide loads in the vicinity, but grave concerns given for what was witnessed. Of the dozen guys in blue tunics and white tees, all of prime build, least half to writhe about, victims she'd perceive of a particularly lethal poison.
Ushered inside, was helpless to stop thieves from snatching her giant crates, and could only watch as they were tossed with uncanny ease, broken into complete splinters.
"Hey, I'm gonna need a signature on that!"
Request to go ignored over rushes to distribute the contents—odd bottles and overgrown fruits, as it were.
Intentions made clear of kicking ass until her shoulder was tapped; that robber, now leader, to claim two things complete; his deceptive redirection, and her heroic deed. Curled lip and narrowed eye at first, but as all started standing healthy, offering tributes of gratitude, would inspect the mess left over.
Another miracle medicine and yet another mysterious scrawl, only this one to display a bright, colourful Chihuahua puppy, varying by the bottle.
"Awww, I so want one!" she'd coo, tickling it. "Dang adorable fuzzy-wuzzy widdle—"
Gasps heard from all, haunted eyes seen too, "What, was it somethin' I—"
"Say, whose side are you on? Fatty's idea of fun to unleash that little mongrel here. Word of advice? The second you see 'em, RUN."
Full bows, regardless, to blush and give awkward waves before starting for the ship, having collected generous payments and even the odd scroll or two—her emphasis, for heavens knew of their purpose. Either way, stories to prefer to reality, especially when those bandanna-clad thugs would return with lecherous grins.
"Say babes, we've been thinkin'."
Knuckles popped, necks cracked, to believe otherwise. "Uhhh, no thank you, we gotta get going."
"Awful rude of yer to never properly introduce yerself, we'd think."
"We really haven't the time, guys. Space to fly, stuff to deliver, dotted lines to sign."
"Haven't a choice. Debu's called for heads. So we've two ways of doin' this—with no fuss, or without mercy."
"How the hell did he? Never mind, whoever fancies my kinda dance, I'm open to the idea."
"Are you MAD, Leela?"
"Hey hey, alright, a little action! Love the ladies who like it rough, though that being said…"
Never saw the blinding kick of sand nor any cyclonic uppercut, but sure felt her feet lift off the ground, her entire body folding in a heap. Mocking laughter heard to stumble back up, rather fuming; cheap shot that'd prove quite the pounding, a blow well beyond her best.
Clearing her vision, would note that Amy had been coldcocked too; lights out, jaw in pieces, to justify rushing to her aid. Very little she could bestow, before an almighty Hail Mary haymaker would connect from nowhere; she to again lift off, spinning this time, to land with a crash and roll. Very gingerly getting to her feet, would see the assailant adjust himself.
"Nervous? We're not even trying. Did you actually think a girl could match our skill?"
"Boys, boys, boys… You might be above my league, but not by virtue. And I've dealt with dirtier fighters than you ever could."
"Oh yeah, sweet cheeks? Go on, show us then."
Their jeering to really savour as she grabbed her guns—both hands AND foot—and let a hail of lasers loose, devastating the duo all over, and soon to their knees. As she breathed in their burning skin, heard their cries for help, her fingers would itch to finish them, bury what was left like her Snookums' litter.
Instead, made such threats very clear, before hoisting Amy upon her shoulders and making for the ship.
"When I get my hands on that wrinkled piece of—"
A stiff hit in the spine to drop with a yell; never did notice bandits right behind, 'till then. Realising that any begging had been a big ruse, would get up again with the most murderous glint.
"I gave you cowards a chance, against better judgement. Guess now, such a day comes for you."
Frying their faces off, offered a throat slit for those charred corpses, but as she began to holster her guns, her eye caught the skies turning an instant black. Another enemy to then rise alongside, glowing with violet, violent hellfire; bestial creature to soon stretch out, taller and MUCH mightier.
"Wha—what in the HELL are you?!"
Barely a growl of greeting, before talons the size of sickles swung at her; the luckiest duck to avoid disfigurement, before she'd fire back, then sprinted on a prayer. Course times to once embarrass Earth's finest soldiers—DOOP's words, not hers—yet that spectre would stay on her tail, often inches shy of grabbing her head.
"This thing's relentless, I can't run forever; think, Leela, think!"
Every blast to only piss it off over paralyse it; was about to resign to being ripped apart, before an accidental click, a particular charging sound, would spark a vivid intuition.
Days before becoming Captain, when she'd purchase her pistols; for one, OSOK mode almost as an afterthought. Given the damage she and they could already do, thought it a pretty Gore-y waste for so long, perhaps until this moment—caught in that demon's grip, could feel her skull burning, screams leave her throat, then her entire body slammed right into the earth.
Its roar of triumph as she gritted her teeth, growled through all the pain—one final trigger to send that thing clear across the fields, and right out of her sight. With the return of daylight, many a minute taken to breathe, nurse wounds, before she'd secure everybody's seats and get out seeking immediate help.
"I'll never complain about New Jersey ever again. Heavens help those souls back there."
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A Friday of drinks and dancing, toasts to better times, to finally earn back every colleague's trust—to have proven her credentials, mettle in the dozen deliveries up 'till then, thought it was about time.
But as she'd return home, began to catch a series of whispers, enough to try planting ears against the wall.
"This guy she's after… So we're clear, he's situated in THAT corner of our nation?"
"Did I believe all the evidence at first? Who else has the five fingers she's after, dear?"
No longer minding Studio 122133—the math nerd's tribute to ancient city nightlife—nor on any bubble baths or big sleep-ins, would get to hustling toward her place, then to her bedside grate.
"For goodness sakes, even WE'RE above such garbage—what, were our sewers too good for him?"
"How should I know? Deerstalker only does so much, sure can't read any minds."
"Hey hey, been hearing you two in there. Any details to deal my way?"
"Oh, hello sweetie, ummm… Look, gotta set the record straight, I really think we've got the wrong—"
"What my sweet lady meant"—the interjection came—"was that even to want double and triple-checks, she just couldn't be convinced. Though after everything we'd collect or try to, sure can't say I blame her."
Ears perking, she'd sidle closer; not the best start, but better than none knowing time was her enemy.
"First lead, lousy I'll admit, involved youngins in blue and red, always carrying some large square vessel. Axing my network, who'd axe any in theirs, we'd establish a couple of things; piecing similar paths taken, seemed it'd occur twice or three times a day."
Began to bite knuckles a bit, "If they're who I think they are, for how familiar that sounds…"
"Old acquaintance of mine, Ellie, to lend their ears; even they'd stay a while tuning in, and normally they could tell ya who farted from a half-mile away. Such as it was, could only report on regular bouts of 'oral ejecting.'"
That to quiver over, not just for the drinks. "Any idea as to what?"
"Shower was regular and free, best they could tell, but Beagle, friend of his, would happen by one night. That they'd sniff out, was an exclusive supply of fast food—Disco Crinkles and Nuklear Kohr's among it—and the kinda stuff nobody should have without a silly straw. Spearmint liquid too, for whatever reason."
"Drinking into an abyss of his own… Wait, wait just a moment!"
Standing up, began pacing the room, "Seem to recall shouting everyone to those exact foods, right after DOOP ousted their General. Losing my Captaincy later on, took on pizza delivery by accident. No doubt they're so cheap, it'd be the same outfit. But then, if it's all true, you mean to tell me—"
"Ohhh, I knew it!" that Bronx twang called out. "Over and over, didn't I say we wouldn't be believed?"
"Guys, don't blame yourselves! Just that, it's mainly more about where he'd hide that—oh dear God!" A face-palm to follow, that'd knock a horse over, "How could I have been so stupid?"
"What do you mean, what's on your mind sweetikins?"
"Born and bred here, crossing any other borders is forbidden. Not exactly a 'law', but heeded with pride—shoulda known our rookie didn't subscribe to it. When I first became Captain, would assist my…"
A good silence, to overhear concern, "Your what? Everything alright?"
"It's nothing, forget it. Was only house hunting. But think I know exactly where he's situated."
"Which means what?"
"Haven't the slightest idea, but if I'm wrong… Really doubt he'll make it through the night."
"Well, you know where we are should anything arise. Love you!"
Knowing her former Officer's fuse was cooked, she couldn't imagine the bombshells he kept secret, the truth and vengeance she was bound to uncover.
"Put any wrongs right if he's willing, but if he wants violence, I'll be glad to oblige him. See ya soon."
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Stepping off her North to South hoverbus, would confirm it was closing on midnight—not a nice area, near Weehawken, but no way back now.
Throughout each stop, her walk to waterfront apartments, knew that whichever way she cut any issues at hand, all over too strong a secret belief and wrath harboured, a situation thick with thorns and thistles would await her.
Especially to stare upon a pile of circuitry, inside that unsecured foyer—having to guess, a certain cell phone to christen this 'paradise' with, all thousand square feet of Mayfield's slice at least.
"Okay, okay, up all these stairs, civilised chat, can't be simpler. Surely he KNOWS he won't survive out here, that God forbid, he can't outfight me."
Yet not even this pep talk to totally convince her, while she'd work up a sprint, "Saying that though, he wouldn't have written what he did, without an ace or two of some kind. But what?"
Dozens of floors to climb, and his door to approach beaded with sweat—more for her thoughts and Miss Wong's words, than any cardio spell.
"Known only real bad days out here, now a cause of them's gonna bargain him back on board. Well, she's handled worse, what could happen?"
Every solid knock, least five seconds' worth, to go unanswered—after failures with roguish locksport, courtesy of her knife, opted to instead kick it apart. Following enough holes, would virtually double over in record time; Mayfield's relapsed side to have returned, with a vengeance more akin to hydrochloric acid.
"Auugghh! Nooo, no way… That's not him, that CAN'T be him."
"Someone out there? Come on ya prick, I'm ready for ya!"
Backed off quite a bit, not just to catch her breath, but stop her chest pounding—speaking of things quite venomous, and beyond virulent, would confirm the kid's tongue. A risk she'd sooner let rot, explain away as succumbing to demons; rather, as she'd invite herself in, a wry frown and rolled eye.
Clasping her face tight, kept her eye on every hazard beneath until she'd reach the balcony, bust open its doors; any claims of fresh Jersey air, though, to completely fail her this night. Forget any silly straws, was clear he had to be knocking back glorified gasoline, a matter she and many peers knew of, for brewing little better.
Wasn't long while trying to clear her lungs that she'd confront her former crew, his clothes soaked beyond any first nights yet possessing the coldest stare known since protests on Pluto years ago.
"Mayfield, heeyy! Gosh it's been a while, huh?"
"The fuck you think you're doin' here?"
"Easy bud, not gonna hurt ya. Just got your note, was hopin' we could—"
"Only when you leave, and ONLY then, will I believe you. Matter of fact, I don't even wanna hear 'bye' outta those fat lips."
Mumbles of prayers to muffle any clap-back, only for a scream of demand, thumping of walls, to rattle her out of that reverie. Not another word spoken as he walked her out, until she stopped just beyond the archway.
"I'll forgive the damage as a parting gift. Be thankful you even get such generosity."
As careers began to close shut, would insert a boot just inches before it did, a feat to again earn frozen insides.
"You know what comes before finding out, don't you? Best quit testing me, lady."
"I don't scare easy kid, so stop it. And if I had my way, I'd lose no winks leaving you alone. Justice be damned though, got my orders to bring you back, so here we are."
"Course you won't apologise. Always about work, never who works for you. Though that does remind me…"
Curious as to what he meant, would follow him back inside, only to eat a face full of something thrown. In pieces little bigger than breadcrumbs, what remained of his career chip—saw it coming, yet was betrayed by her widening eye.
"Give that as my answer, not just for HQ, but ESPECIALLY for you and him," he'd point. "What I get to not trust my gut."
"Had I trusted mine, so we're clear, you'd have never left Cookieville, never made a damn thing of yourself." A moment taken, to look him up and down. "Woulda died then as you live today; speaking of such right now, I'd rather keep things civil."
"Ohhh, you're such a hero, actin' like you saved my life. Did that give you carte blanche to create my living hell instead? Forsake all civility in doing so? Get that trash outta here, and take yourself with it."
"Deny it or don't, like it or loathe it, we're EXACTLY that to you. And trying to train you aside, you've only your madness for miracles to blame. All the schemes and secrets, all the shit you'd pull trying to scratch that itch…"
"Had you heard me out, maybe such 'madness' would've made sense. Instead, you'd intrude into worlds of my own making, ones I'd wish on no-one. Ones I'd travel any lengths to leave behind, even to know I can't."
"Well, since we're here, why don't we—"
"You never cared then, so stop pretending you can play Counsellor. Answer me this though, what was it you once told me? 'A moment doesn't make the full story,'?"
"Right after we broke in, very first day. So you DO listen, how 'bout that? Why didn't you after the bribes, the threats, or when it'd matter most?"
"Figure it out, Miss Sherlock. Much as I've got a big mouth and ideas, maybe I'm not the mastermind you imagine I am."
Would turn her head a touch, crook her thumb and pointer into her chin, then gasp for realising.
"Farnsworth. Of course. So he did take you up on that miraculous garbage you sold him?"
"Pfft, please. Convinced him so well, somehow, the walking corpse gave me unpaid overtime, an ultimatum, to search all of HQ."
"And you didn't—"
"Refuse? How could I? His price for board; had I stiffed him, woulda become another Sun spot."
"I see… Valid grudge there, so I assume you'd take him apart before taking off?"
"I took his phone to find him there, just so he'd suffer more. And that's to bear him the BAREST of ill wills—with you, I've a greater score to settle."
"Oh really? Right now, all that remains between your talking tough and my putting you in the ground is plain and simple civility. And we both know how you've fared before."
"Not like I'm not aware. I'm no Oxford scholar, as I've said before. But what makes you think I'll volunteer to relive such violence, all your other abuses? Even total naiveté has its limits."
"If that's true, then why'd you keep yapping about payback? Why poke a bear who, twice already, made clear you weren't to screw her?"
"I wanted to believe you had brains, to be so accomplished. Believe you'd notice those little details, in so doing, see bigger pictures. Tempers aside, even to be screwed daily, you think I wanted to screw the woman who'd take me in, teach me her trade?"
"I, I, I—"
"Well? Time's wastin'."
"Couldn't help but think of mutinies, for always going over my head, convincing our Professor. Many times he'd make clear, that only males were Captain material—was all I had left, so—"
"Seriously, that's it? That's FUCKING it?"
"Hey, excuse me, watch—"
"No, SHUT up! So all those ugly words you'd spew, all you'd steal outta my pocket with impunity, all the threats made and stunts pulled, all the beatings given and nightmares caused… was because you thought I wanted that TRAVESTY you call a life?"
"Alright, enough is—"
"I'll SAY when it's enough! Much as my ancestors were criminals, I wasn't RAISED by any—after my crime against them, you think I'd crucify their heritage, their memory, just so I could pretend to be YOU? This total bitch with permanent PMS and shit imagination, with no excuse for either?"
"Not gonna warn ya again, back off."
"Taking our dumbarse boss to heart aside, what did you THINK your miracles were capable of, for knowing 'em so well? Would they help this fresh meat fly your ship? Keep her spaceworthy? Command its crew? Grab a bigger share of—guess what—NOTHING?"
Looked about for any possible answer, but none ever came as her anger climbed, and rants continued.
"Or maybe, just maybe, they'd help me survive our abyss and all its horrors, so that in time, you'd get what you deserve for giving me that chance?"
"That was all I ever wanted, WISHED for outta you. Just not how you went about it, Thomas."
"DON'T say my name as if you're clan or friend. You're not one, and never will be. Gambled with my health and headspace from day one—tonight's the night your ante falls far short."
"Fine, if you insist on playing these stupid games, then—OWWW!"
One filthy finger, under cover of moonlight, to render her blind; could only resort to feeling about, try not to stumble, for having lost the layout's memory years ago. A little luck and fresh sinkwater to restore all vision, rile her into a renewed hunt—no sighting of the kid, but slams and clatters of ceramic to race straight for the ensuite, best she could remember.
But no matter how she'd barge into wood or try manipulating the lock, hadn't any hope of forcing herself in. Didn't wait real long, though, for after hearing a click, Mayfield would emerge out of that choking decay, a much eerier calm in tone and eyes than she was expecting.
"This whole time, so eager to send me where I deserve. Well Leela, time you take your best shot."
"Hmmm, somethin' smells. Weren't you one false step from dying like two minutes ago?"
"Try since last week. After I ran, here I'd remain, readying for those crossroads. But since you're here, could always use the company."
Realizing there was no pushing him away, would back up then sprint out, only to meet him halfway down the stairs. Racing right back up, was caught at the door—right then, felt a hand be forcibly grabbed, his grip stronger than Diamondium, that'd lead them both back inside.
"We never had to resort to this, y'know. You had every chance to be civil, and I gave you chances to stay away, even to leave."
"Let go of me this instant, you slimy little creep!"
"Tut-tut, what must I do to teach ya respect, a little manners? Maybe…"
Last word to let hang, then, what felt like the crisping of bones to be drawn out; hers in prime form, yet right then, mere sugar glass. Through the shrieks and tears as she'd writhe in place, would notice his invigoration of a sort, one to consume, twist, and corrupt the little good left in him.
"How? How, you son-of-a-BITCH?!" she'd finally grit out. "Swear, Hell won't come soon enough when I'm—"
"And that'll be different HOW?" he'd cackle and grip her neck. "For years, there wasn't a day I'd NOT ask why I got outta bed, NOT find a two-faced monster in every mirror. For every thought you mighta had of paying your quarter, I had two or more of hitting up a hardware store—pay MUCH more for that privilege."
Being let go, tried her best to regain breath, only to end up lifted off her feet, dangled over the balcony.
"Don't you get it? You WERE that hero, WERE that light of hope I long thought lost. The very same that, when I needed to be, I wasn't. That you'd take my hand, promise me so much, yet always prove me wrong… It'd grieve my heart so sore."
An abrupt blackness to then swoop over; fears of demonic invasion to think of screaming, but upon that being of shadow thudding into view, quickly caught herself. In its growl of greeting, something much more familiar.
"Won't be your worst wound, that I will guarantee."
"YOU!" heard Mayfield roar, before hitting solid ground. "I want answers, so give 'em up."
"There'll be no need. Your permission's just been revoked."
"What permission, arsehole? I didn't consent to being hunted down, just 'cause you had the hots for me."
"Want your tongue ripped through your teeth? 'Cause you're on the express route."
"Whatever. So why did you come at me with all your vague garbage, especially when I just got here?"
"And speakin' of which"—she'd splutter out—"what's the deal with you always being in my life?"
"We're men of honour, my Master and I, not of patience. We warned you enough, little boy, but you wouldn't listen. As for you Miss Leela, it's only by Master's goodwill and good word that you stay alive. I'm sent on occasion to make sure."
"Of course my lot gets drawn out. Who would do that?"
"Might agree on one thing. Gonna get our answers the old-fashioned way."
Such a battle between titans to be over in moments—was sure of recognising certain moves before the bloody mess of Delivery Boys got carried fireman-style, and she'd hear its cause make a declaration.
"I'll be back for you, cyclops, but until then… World's End awaits the wicked."
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"Well, that could've been a worse start to my weekend… Just not sure how."
It was at that point she'd declare a need for liquid courage, only to realise that there were nowhere near the bottles to even begin helping. Could well remember, perhaps ironically, doing deliveries to Doohan-6; besides the usual, their thanks to come with enough whiskey to fill a fish tank, sometimes top-shelf.
Real stupid luck to strike again, to know this World's End could've been anywhere, and she hadn't the time to grab her device. An epiphany though to leave behind those blends, and grab every gulp of air outside that she could, in advance of braving the cadaverous corner Thomas emerged from.
Every inch within to recoil, rush cocktails right up her throat; more than once to rush out for breathers, after precious seconds ripping cupboards open, or rummaging for solutions.
It'd take several in succession, one close call, to gaze through that fog and find a hole where busted ceramic had been—page out of a dictionary, an attached note, to pry out with a stash, one she'd open by the railing.
PAYBACK [noun]: "Profit from an investment equal to the initial outlay."
"Like I said, the meaning far less applied. Was all I wanted, to reach your level and be seen as equal—guess I won't need 'em now."
Opening that box a wave of scepticism with its contents, yet after a thorough rub her other hand, once shattered, would restore right to health. Very next moment, an energy beyond any tsunami—vigour and power familiar—to course inside; reveals and realisations all, to drop upon knees and drag knuckles down her face.
"All those things he could've done, all those gifts… And yet I'd become what I feared of him."
Gripping the balcony railing, would rise back up ignoring any shakes or dinted metal, a single duty becoming clear.
"No longer shall my sins bear such cost; no matter my darkness, I won't let it stop me from shining again."
Leaping right over, and cracking the pavement, those blackened streets became a blur as she raced right home, calling through the grate after a shower and change. A few raspy voices though, within and next door, to rather rudely inform of their sleep; knowing she'd no time to take a message, gave her apologies, grabbed her device, and got on with searching.
Her feet to fly through all five boroughs, Bronx to Staten Island, in what must've been minutes, but to only rediscover worlds of vintage clothing or print comics, the thoughts of flipping a hovercar had grown tempting.
"World's End, hell it's gonna be by the time I find him! Computer, missing person searches, any suggestions?"
"How am I to know? I wasn't there. I would've said somethin' like slippin' your Lo-jack chip, but—"
"Oh I'm sorry, should I've thought of that to discover where he was like a half-hour ago?"
"Whaddya mean you weren't—don't you prep your meals a month in advance?"
"Trust me, after what I'd seen, dealt with, never gonna equate the two."
"Then how 'bout the library? Perhaps we can dig up manuscripts, pictures… Ancient maps maybe?"
"Do I look like I've the time to search ANY of that? Literally heard it the first time outta Shadowboy's lips, and Lord knows he could be lurking anywhere."
"Well I don't know what to tell ya, lady. I really don't. Been capable of countless things over the years, just not mind-reading or miracles."
"Hold on a second, that's it! Are you able to trace a scent, and if so, what can I uninstall to make it happen?
"Do I look like a dog to you? *sigh* Regardless, you haven't used most functions more than once: two-way radio, rhyme analyser, neutron laser, efficiency calculator… No wonder I've felt bloated. Lemme go ahead and optimise my hard drive, and, bingo. MUCH better. Who are you after?"
"We're after a Thomas Mayfield, just left his flat off the New Jersey riverbank. Though while we're at it, any chance you can trace his captor too? Calls himself 'Admiral' I believe."
"I'll try, but won't be any help standing this side of the border. Let's get a move on."
Ensuite to reach in mere blinks through giant leaps and high-jumping acrobatics—upon getting in, her wrist to start burning with a frenzy of sparks and fizzles, crying of a critical overload. Only upon racing back out, would it return to normal.
"Ohhhh, Mom's mercy and grace… With every node and chip in my cores, I HATE you."
"Heh, that'll teach ya to not take my word on equating things. So, we got what we came for?"
"Thank heavens, we have. Analysing these compounds, I'm getting faint traces far north of here. For that to be true, gotta be the foulest sons-of—"
"Besides Zoidberg, now Thomas, only odour of great offence I've known was from… Could it be?"
Dared not think on it further as she'd follow the calls, hopes raising to hear "Pluto", "Arctic", then "freezer" as she'd barrel through Woodcliff, Edgewater, then past Rockleigh. Palisades Hoverway, with its winding ways, to cause a touch of confusion, but upon blazing trails beyond Highland Falls, arriving at Gee's Point, the constant calls of "HOT!" would soon convince her.
"This seems the place, but, why come out here again? All I see is shampoo and soap."
"Fear that'll happen to not act—scent's real weak here, and I can't detect a thing after that."
"What are you talkin'—wait a minute… Memory's coming back, a major one too. Often joked about promises of tossing old friends in the river, over refusals to wash. But then—oh no!"
Pressing her cheeks, she'd dive in immediately after, become a near-torpedo with every pump and kick. Yet even to reach supposed bottom, it'd seem to no avail as she was forced to resurface.
"Whoever this 'Master' is"—would rub cream again—"sure knows how to make 'em disappear… What do they want from us?"
Thoughts of past jobs and future threats to return with greater resolve—success to discover an even deeper section, and inside of it, the victim of a beatdown far beyond her chief's, one so absolute she could only identify them by those five-finger hands.
Fearing she'd force him apart by going fast, would raise that Officer carefully to shore, carry him as the Admiral did, then get to leaping the Hudson's length, hoping that no impact would leave her coated and thus the clear suspect.
Reaching Taco Bellevue, she'd then breach the emergency ward for somewhere to hook Thomas up; a doctor doing the rounds to catch her prowling.
"Hey, you can't come on these premises! Security, secur—"
Grabbing his lips and jaw, needed only a stare and crushing of his radio.
"Your funeral and theirs to try anything," she'd say before letting go. "Now leave him, stay quiet, and wait."
Another shower and change, then she'd return with a wad of bills, plenty enough from past deliveries to silence the expert of them both.
"Fine, in God we trust; the hell do you want?"
"Simple request surely; do what you must to bring this kid back to life, and be quick about it. Fail me, and it'll be YOUR name I'll tag and bag. Just to be sure, I'll be visiting every day."
No chance for clarity or further questions, to leave only wind in her wake; hadn't a choice, for a need of sleep was long past due. Another adventure, another sting for trying to right her ship, to leave her crashing over bedsheets once she got home.
Never could forget giving orders to oppose Hummer-sized bees, for highly-prized Space Honey, even against the outright refusal of crew AND their big boss. Stinger's instant death, God forbid out of allergy? The agonies told of trusted crews, their black box screams confirming it? None of that to matter more than the inadequacy issues for asking 'what if?'
Each and every decision that day, of seizing baby Queens and beyond, to prove more reckless than righteous—only luck to let everyone leave intact, and even then it didn't last. Baby's growth and reasonable hostility to drill through her dear friend, a sacrifice that'd grant her only a boo-boo, or so was believed.
Perhaps a friendship tested—certain failures throughout—to set in stone all these current affairs.
For two whole weeks, that poison would ravage body and mind, leave her battling a war that'd beckon eternal peace; spoonfuls of her prize, so simple and tasty, to claim it. And yet, always a hand and voice begging she resist—turned out Fry spent literally every minute by her bedside, post-SURGERY, to offer it.
His companion, meanwhile, to voice private contempt over being left behind, in spite of public support, and even after leaving Taco Bellevue. Pervasive yet harmless pox at first, was sure, only for it to outgrow them all—blamed herself for that, had promised never again, ever since.
"Even in his best moods, everyone knew who he was… Thomas didn't, and he deserves to now."
(¯ˆ·.¸(¯ˆ·.¸(¯ˆ·.¸(¯ˆ·.¸(¯ˆ·.¸(¯ˆ·.¸ —…— ¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)
Not that she'd been asked for always being on time and beyond competent, but she never told either crew or colleague of the coffees forgone, those quarters paid on the way to work…
Every street she'd cross to confront the scariest force, even on reasonably good days—those grey booths to promise an ending, if not a happy one. Each occasion, a belief of deserving what she'd dealt out, only for a sudden voice, renewing desires for answers, to dodge those cattle prods, drills, sawblades, and knives inside.
Had come out shaken—as one might dicing with death—perhaps once too often; after growing murmurs and mutters, it'd finally culminate in Farnsworth ordering an appointment, dubbing it as a "check of acuity and faculty."
Tromping in, was greeted by the taps of a tin can, a clearing of the throat.
"What's the deal with human dentists, I ask you? Every clean and check-up anyone wants, they tell ya to come back at two-thirty."
Face creasing, would slap it away, "Can the comedy act, just tell me why I gotta see you, when we both know you absolutely suck?"
"It'll only be the one time… Now turn your head and cough real loud, and I'll—"
Seeing the hammer in his pincers, she instead leapt off the table, dodged that incoming swing, then flashed a kick to implant its claws into the eye chart.
"Excuse me, I believe I'M the doctor here."
"Suurree you are. Strange one to do almost nothing right, yet do all the harm around here."
"Aren't we the Little Miss Expert? See how you fare when YOU'RE forced into lives you didn't want, when YOUR efforts get no respect, when YOU get blamed for whatever wasn't your fault."
Shutting her eyes, was too busy picturing him in a pot, before a slam of claws snapped her out of it.
"Damn it Captain, nobody's a mind-reader here! Would it kill you to explain why you close off from us these days?"
"Why say a word, just to get sold again? Hell, you got bought off with only a minnow once. All you deserve from me is"—she'd come up close—"I HATE YOU!"
Ringing those ears to elicit a smirk, though it didn't deter him, "Just as I prescribed before, only that it's gotten worse. Way worse."
"Again with the parents, seriously? Must it take a stone-cold can of whoop-ass to set that record straight? You must think I became Captain 'cause I LIVED for dealing with galactic assholes every day, all the ambushes and breaches. All I only wanted were answers and friends; don't even have either of them, these days."
"And you'll never get the former, to not fight for the latter. I speak for knowing, unlike you."
"Oh, this oughta be good. Of everything I've met, of all you've ever done, you've actually GOT a friend besides those you proclaim?"
"Why do you think I took this job, Leela?"
"I imagine it's 'cause every hospital's got restraining orders against you."
"Leave the zingers to Hermes. Think it's time I told you a story—don't worry, I'll keep it brief."
Crossing her arms, gave only a growl and a rather reluctant nod.
"A lifetime ago, Hubert and I served as military comrades, under a real nice lady's service—Madam Miller, to memory. As we were airlifted over Triton, we'd be briefed on missions to occupy that planet and neutralise its locals, ready 'em for dissection. Ended up becoming fast friends, much more so when a total blunder sent us parachuting into methane swamps."
"Ugh, sure explains the odour, the being luckless."
"On account of my origins, I'd be immune, but our entire units weren't. While most were laid out with fever or spasms, Hubert would decide to take that hunt upon himself. Even for elite soldiers, to go solo was plain suicide, so would join him after trying to treat my patients. Just as well I'd arrive the instant that Yeti—fluffy white fiend—reared its head."
"Oh really? How so?"
"The whole of HQ knows of my outbursts, what I'm capable of once they happen… You wanna guess what cracked this skull without effort?"
Whole body to hunch for hearing it; an absolute stupidity, AND pure sweetness, of which that crab wasn't always known for.
"Truth was, I could've been Chief of Staff had I stayed behind. Had my own lab, been rich, been worth regard… But Hubert literally gave his neck to end that bastard; if he hadn't, I'd have left Triton in a titanium crockpot."
It'd be a story to help realise exactly what'd been missing—caring not for who'd notice, had grabbed her handbag and again walked the halls of Taco Bellevue. Inside an abandoned room, reachable by secret passcode, would help lift Mayfield's fleshy middle onto an operating table.
"Sheesh, guy could give up a pound or twenty. Thanks for that."
"Whatever. How's progress?"
"An absolute animal to do this, all I can say. Still, assuming our Auto-Docs are up to it, we'll put him right inside a few days, week at the most."
"You're not kidding. How to even break it to him…"
"Treated him in the city before, and straight talk lady? Complete nutcase as is, and all over nanotech lasers and nanobot syringes too."
"I would've agreed once. Now I gotta explain how, after rescuing him, you'd hack his body to pieces, preserved his head in H2O-G-fat, then fired up all those machines to do the heavy lifting. And that's to say nothing about stitching him back together, and leaving no scars."
"You're welcome to take over if you like. Least I know what the hell I'm doin'."
"If only I did too, pal. If only I did too."
With that, she'd approach the jar and squat down, flash a smile toward her EDB's blank shuteye as those machines stayed operational.
"You gave me a better chance than most have. More chances than I've deserved… 'Bout time I repaid ya."